


Yours

by belovedbey



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Adorable Newt Scamander, Blink and you'll miss it, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Possessive Original Percival Graves, Smitten Original Percival Graves, a tiny tiny bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 00:11:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedbey/pseuds/belovedbey
Summary: Newt finally finds Director Graves, but not in the condition he expected him to be in.





	Yours

Darkness enveloped the streets of New York City, street-lights reflecting off the windows of all of the buildings as Newt Scamander shivered to himself, hurriedly strolling along as puffs of air rose from his mouth. At MACUSA, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement found itself busied with the case of the still-missing Percival Graves; no one knew exactly how long Grindelwald had been using his body, but they couldn’t find any leads as to where the man could be. Newt was shuffling through his own notes about the case at his desk (he’d been appointed Consultant for the department by Seraphina Picquery shortly after his help uncovering Grindelwald and obliviating the No-Maj population of the city) when his eyes grew unbearably heavy and his head fell forward onto the oak desk. It wasn’t that the case was boring, but there’d been no new information to come in about it and his sleep schedule happened to be rather inconsistent, making his tiredness catch up with him against his will.   
Tightening his jacket around his lean form, he wished he could just apparate to the Goldsteins’ apartment, but he worried that his noisy arrival would rouse the sisters from their sleep and he didn’t wish to be rude; he was also still tired and he didn’t want to chance splinching himself in the middle of their living room. 

A few minutes into his walk from the Woolworth Building, a deep unsettling feeling overturned his stomach and the skin on the back of his neck prickled, entire body wracked with a shiver that wasn’t from the cold. Chancing a glance behind him, he found only empty sidewalk and he tried to disregard his feelings as casual anxiety from being alone in the city at night, but he quickened his stride nonetheless. Ten minutes and a few blocks later, the tense atmosphere refused to settle and Newt’s hands began to clam up within his coat pockets. Unable to bear the feeling any longer, he stopped in the middle of the pavement and spun around, but still, nothing was there. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and let out a soft chuckle at his antics, trying to calm his beating heart with a hand over his chest. Turning back around, he reopened his eyes and screamed, startling a lone pigeon picking along the sidewalk for crumbs. Right in front of him was a dark pair of eyes scouring over his form, almost hungrily, and Newt immediately stepped back from the man, who, after narrowing his eyes, he realised was… “Director Graves?”

The man made no gesture to prove he heard his name; he only pursued Newt’s retreating body with flaring nostrils and a snarling expression, eyebrows drawn and forehead wrinkled. His skin was alabaster. Newt thought perhaps it was just from not making contact with sunlight for so long--who knows where and how Grindelwald had restrained him--but the man’s lips parted and he caught sight of the two sharp canines that gleamed threateningly. “Oh…” _Oh_ … “Are you hungry, Director?”

“You smell… _so_ good,” Graves drawled through a growl, rendering Newt a bit nervous, but he refused to back down. Unbuttoning his overcoat, he shrugged one arm out of the sleeve and leaned his head back, exposing his neck, which Graves’ eyes immediately narrowed in on. 

“Come on. You must be starving,” Newt urged, maternal, creature-caring heart kicking in. He stood, rigid, as the man advanced with no hesitation. One of Graves’ hands found his waist, curling around it and sliding to the small of his back while his other hand gripped at his shoulder, tight enough to induce a wince out of him, but he kept his face stoic and breathing steady as he felt the man’s warm breath against his neck. He didn’t know how he expected it to feel, but as soon as the man’s fangs pierced his skin, a blinding, suffocating pleasure wracked his body and he had to hold himself up against Graves, hands gripping at the Director’s shoulders so that he wouldn’t crumble to the ground. The feeding continued for a minute before Graves unlatched from him, tongue caressing the broken skin so that it healed over. 

Even though it was done, Newt didn’t release his hold on the man for he felt a bit lightheaded, but Graves didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he moved so that is face was right in front of his. “You taste as good as you look,” he complimented, Newt’s face flushing pink as the man returned to his neck, beginning to lick and suck at the skin. He was thankful it was nearing three in the morning, because if this had started happening in broad daylight--it wouldn’t have; vampires don’t feed during the day, but that was beside the point--the surrounding people would’ve been in for a shock. 

“Are you giving me a hickey? Stop that!” Newt ordered, regaining his thoughts and pulling Graves’ away with his hands on either side of the man’s head, which was much more of a struggle than it should have been; the Director appeared keen on finishing his job. “Stop!”

“You are _**mine**_ ,” Graves growled so fiercely that Newt gasped, watching as the man’s eyes darkened further. He’d briefly studied vampires twice; once in school with Professor Dumbledore and another on his own, and he knew that born vampires possessed mates, but he couldn’t recall turned vampires having them, although that seemed to be the best explanation for Graves’ intimate behaviour. Stepping out of the man’s embrace, much to his chagrin if judged by the inhuman hiss that left his mouth, he took the man’s arm with his hand while ignoring the noise. 

“I’m going to apparate, Director. Unless you want to stay here in the middle of the sidewalk in thirty degree weather.” Graves nodded his head for him to continue, and so the two of them disappeared from the city street with a sharp crack, startling the same pigeon that had returned after finding a discarded bagel, flapping its wings with a piece of it grasped in its beak. 

As soon as they appeared in the Goldsteins’ living room, Graves took to pressing small kisses all over Newt’s face, making the distressed magizoologist sigh halfheartedly. “Newt, where you have you been?” Tina’s voice met his ears, and he didn’t get to warn the woman who had just came in from the kitchen about Graves. “Is that…?” She started, eyes wide. 

“Yes,” Newt answered, struggling to get his jacket off with the man latched onto him like a lonely sloth. “Director, can you please stop touching me for a minute? Just for a minute.” Tina gaped as her boss pushed his bottom lip out in a pout.

“A minute.”

“A minute,” Newt confirmed, and Graves begrudgingly released him. Sighing with relief, Newt shuffled away as he was finally able to get out of his coat. Tina, watching as her boss’s eyes stayed fixed on her friend, slowly walked over to where Newt was hanging his coat on the hook beside the front door. 

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Grindelwald got someone to turn him into a vampire.” Tina gasped at this. “I expect he wanted to starve the man but didn’t want to waste his magic on keeping him alive, so instead turned him immortal,” he explained sadly. “Vampires don’t starve in the same way humans do. Instead of dying, the pain just increases and increases until it eventually turns them mad.” At the tone in his voice, she moved her eyes to his neck, and sure enough, two puncture marks stood prevalent amongst his freckles. 

“You didn’t!” She ridiculed, raising her hand to touch the marks, only to stop when a hair-raising hiss ripped from her boss’s mouth. The man zipped across the room at impressive speed and enveloped Newt with his arms. His face, directed at her from over his shoulder, was one of pure rage, eyes black and fangs elongated. It sent chills down her spine. 

“Director!” Newt scorned, turning around in the man’s arms. “She’s just a friend. Making sure if I’m okay. You know her; Tina Goldstein. She was one of your Aurors.” The man narrowed his eyes at the woman, nodding slightly. He didn’t seem to care too much though, choosing to just bury himself in Newt’s neck, nuzzling his nose into his scent. Exasperated, Newt turned his head as much as he could so he could continue addressing Tina. “I did. And I think I’m his mate… or something else, I’m not sure.”

“Mmm, mate. Mine,” Graves spoke, lips brushing against his collarbone, confirming his suspicions for the both of them. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to deal with that. Just know we’ll have to take him into work tomorrow,” Tina said, voice infused with a bit of amusement at the sight of flustered Newt.

“Yeah,” he responded before she left to go back to bed. Now that she was gone, he could fully focus on the man who had begun opening his shirt, exposing his chest to the warm air of the apartment. “Director, none of that,” he reprimanded lightly, nudging the man’s fumbling hands away from the buttons. The man whined like a child not getting what he wanted in a sweets shop and Newt chuckled, buttoning his shirt back up as Graves just dropped his head onto his shoulder.

“Call me Percival,” the man mumbled.

“Okay,” Newt agreed, taking one of the man’s hands in his own. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” They moved as one through the kitchen and back into the guest bedroom, where he picked his suitcase up with his free hand and positioned it on the floor, opening the clasps and flipping it open. “In we go,” he stated simply at Percival’s confused expression. In his state of befuddlement, Newt was able to tug himself from the man’s grasp so that he could easily get down the ladder. Percival joined him so fast that he didn’t get a chance to browse through his books to see if he owned any volumes about vampires. Sighing, he decided it could wait until tomorrow, when his vampire was in a more sensible state of mind. Smacking the man’s roaming hand away from his lower back, he dragged him into the conjoined bedroom behind the ladder and forced him onto his bed. “You stay right there, mister,” Newt ordered with a finger pointed at him after seeing him go to stand again. 

Percival huffed, but obeyed. After knowing he wouldn’t go anywhere, Newt began to undress himself. In the back of his head, he knew this would be torture for the man on his bed, and he revelled in the control he knew he had over him. Untucking his shirt from his trousers, he unbuttoned it all the way down before sliding the fabric down and off his arms, purposefully slow in his movements. He made way with his boots, and then his pants after unbuckling the belt that kept them snug around him, and when he turned around, he bit his lip at the man’s lustful expression. “Your turn.” Sauntering over, he straddled himself over Percival’s lap and began untying his tie, much to the man’s pleasure… evident in the way he could feel it under him. “Oh… you’re so turned on by me. Do you like me sat here?” He asked teasingly, batting his eyes at him. 

“It’s where you belong,” Percival answered, voice unnaturally deep. In the blink of an eye, Newt found himself lying face-up on his bed under the man, whose clothes had suddenly vanished, leaving everything in its glory. Cheeks pink, Newt admired his toned body, which would undoubtedly look healthier after getting more blood into him.

“You can have more blood if you need it,” he whispered, gazing up at the man, who easily complied. The both of them were so aroused by the end of the second feeding that they couldn’t help but give in to each other’s pleasure, Newt moaning Percival’s name as the man emptied himself within him, Newt doing so onto his chest. He came back to his senses to watch the man lick it off of him, and he fell asleep within Percival’s strong embrace after his face and neck inflamed and Percival kissed his red cheeks. “You are mine,” the man spoke before Newt drifted off, affectionately nipping at his ear.

“Yours,” he affirmed.


End file.
